


your frame shakes so sweetly with every sob

by furchte_die_schildkrote



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Clothed/Naked, Come Marking, Creampie, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extra Treat, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Submission, Humiliation, Incest, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Underage, Past abuse used to shame and humiliate the victim even further, Possessive Sex, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex for Favors, rapist pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23557153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furchte_die_schildkrote/pseuds/furchte_die_schildkrote
Summary: Evan Lukas abandoned his family and their god years ago. Cut off from the Lonely, Evan is slowly wasting away. Now, as his death approaches, he returns to Moorland House seeking a favor from his older brother Peter—protection for the very lonely fiance he will be leaving behind.
Relationships: Evan Lukas/Peter Lukas
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	your frame shakes so sweetly with every sob

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anysin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anysin/gifts).



> Happy Smut 4 Smut, anysin! I hope you enjoy! :D

“Welcome home, Evan,” said Peter, feeling a hollow grin stretch across his face as he ushered Evan into Moorland House for the first time in over a decade. 

Peter relished Evan’s skittish discomfort as he took in the bleak, unwelcoming walls of the home he had spent so long fleeing, the way Evan seemed to shrink in the looming entryway as the door closed behind him. Ten years spent running from his own family—from his own god—and now here he stood. What used to be awkward, teenage gangliness had been replaced by a sickly gauntness; the needy restlessness Peter remembered had grown into something more feral, like a wild beast caught in a trap. 

“And congratulations,” said Peter, gesturing towards Evan’s ring, letting a hint of menace creep behind his cheerful tone.

Evan stiffened, clasping his other hand protectively over the ring.

“Thank you,” he replied in a guarded tone, hesitating a moment before pushing on. “I know you have been watching me since I left. You’ve seen her, I assume.”

“Lovely. Absolutely stunning. Such a lonely thing, too,” Peter responded, savoring the way Evan bristled at the threat. 

“You look awful,” said Peter, his eyes trailing up and down Evan’s haggard frame. “How long has it been since you had a proper meal?”

“Fifteen months.”

“Goddamned idiot,” Peter laughed, masking the prickling resentment he felt at Evan’s rejection of their god. “I assume this is because of your new _companion_.”

“It doesn’t have to be about her. Maybe I just don’t want to kill people.”

“That never stopped you before you left us,” said Peter teasingly, delighting in the shadow of guilt that crept across Evan’s face. “And judging by the fact that you’re still alive a decade later, I would say it didn’t stop you after, either.”

“Fine,” Evan conceded. “After I met her, I tried making offerings like I always had. Three times. I thought it would stave off the hunger like normal, but it only made it worse. I didn’t want more; I wanted _her_. She’s just so lonely. I haven’t let myself take anyone since.”

“You could just leave her. You _are_ leaving her already, in a way. No need to starve yourself.”

“ _No_ ,” said Evan, with surprising force. “I can’t be alone again.”

“Looking out for yourself, I see,” Peter said, smiling warmly as he prodded Evan where he knew it would hurt most. “I’m almost proud. You’re a true Lukas after all.”

Evan’s eyes darkened and his gaze fell, downcast.

“What do you want from me?” asked Peter.

“Protection for Naomi after I’m gone. From our family.”

“Why can’t she protect herself?” asked Peter, suspecting he knew the answer.

“She doesn’t know. About any of it.”

“Delightful.”

“I can’t have her look at me like I’m—”

“—like she knows what you are.”

Evan drew his arms in defensively, answering with guilty silence.

“Why do you think I would help?” asked Peter.

“Because I can give you something you want.”

“What would that be?”

“You were always angry that Nathaniel was the one to initiate me,” said Evan, his voice shaking slightly even as he held Peter’s gaze with a cautious bravado. 

Peter took a step towards Evan, making Evan flinch back against the door. Evan was trapped—nowhere to slink away as Peter closed the distance between them until he was barely a breath away, as Peter reached out to caress Evan’s cheek with menacing gentleness, reveling in the way Evan winced under his touch.

It was a tempting proposal. The summer leading up to Evan’s initiation, Peter had assumed he had the strongest claim to his brother’s virginity. Peter had grown to covet Evan—dote on him, even—all the while fantasizing about splitting Evan open on his cock. 

Then their uncle Nathaniel had brought that fantasy crashing down. He had claimed that Evan being fucked by his own brother would harm his growth in Forsaken’s service, which was already hampered enough by the boy’s naturally affectionate manner. It was a fair point, although Peter had realized by now that Nathaniel’s motivations were hardly the pure service of their god. 

He thought back to the night of Evan’s initiation, when he had been made to hold Evan down as Nathaniel thrust into him. It was meant as a punishment for Peter’s attachment, but feeling Evan squirm under his grip had only fueled Peter’s desire. He remembered all the times after that, when he had hidden himself from sight and watched hungrily as Evan’s reluctance gave way to his craving for affection and human contact—as Nathaniel molded Evan into a desperate little toy. Peter had resented the both of them for making him defile himself with such petty jealousy and attachments. 

“You’ve already been fucked,” said Peter, letting his hand fall away. “It wouldn’t be a proper deflowering.” 

Evan bristled.

“I could make it better with you. I won’t struggle this time.”

“You couldn’t fight me off if you wanted to, scrawny as you are,” said Peter, looping his hand around the small of Evan’s back, feeling a profane thrill at the warmth under his touch. “What if I wanted you to struggle?”

Peter hungrily watched Evan’s throat move as he swallowed. 

“I could do that, too.”

A rush of arousal coursed through Peter at the thought, sharper than anything he had known before.

“That is tempting,” Peter said, licking his lips. “But first I’d rather see you beg. For my mercy and my cock.”

Evan hesitated, barely suppressing his squirming discomfort—as if he had not made the offer first. Finally, he nodded. “Let’s find a bedroom.”

“No, here is fine,” said Peter, relishing the way Evan balked at the suggestion. “Think of it as a welcome-home party. We wouldn’t want to hide that away, would we?”

Evan shifted, as if he were considering putting up a fight, before he pulled a condom and a bottle of lube from his pocket. 

“You came prepared, like a good little whore,” said Peter. He smirked at the way Evan flinched before taking both items from Evan’s hand. “I might let you use the lube if you behave for me, but I don’t suspect we’ll be needing this.”

Peter pocketed the lube and let the condom drop to the floor. 

“Now on your knees. Convince me with that pretty little mouth of yours, or no protection for your widow.”

Evan hesitated before dropping to his knees as Peter leaned back against the wall. To Evan’s credit, he wasted no time as he began to unbutton Peter’s trousers, before Peter batted his hands away.

“Now, Evan. Don’t be rude. You have to ask nicely before you get my cock.”

Evan tensed, balling his fists against his thighs before relinquishing.

“Please, Peter. Can I suck your cock?” Evan asked, his voice tepid and bitter.

“That’s a poor excuse for begging. You almost make me think you don’t want this.”

Evan glared at Peter before his eyes darted downwards. Peter felt a spiteful rush as he watched Evan begin to realize how desperately trapped he was. He could almost see the wheels turning in Evan’s mind, trying to navigate his way through this unwinnable mess, until finally he looked up to meet Peter’s gaze.

“Please. I’ll be good for you, Peter. I’ll let you take me however you want. I wished it were you—that night, every night after. I—I thought it might be different with you.”

That might actually be true, judging by the shame in Evan’s eyes. 

“Do you still think that?”

“No.”

“Good boy,” said Peter, smiling. He opened his trousers and took out his cock, already growing hard. “Now get to work.”

Peter held back a hiss as Evan leaned forward and took him into his mouth, gently sucking and swirling his tongue around Peter’s cock until Peter was fully erect. Evan bobbed his head up and down the length of Peter’s cock, wrapping his fist around what he could not fit in his mouth.

Peter thought back to all the times he had watched invisibly as Evan knelt in this same position before Nathaniel—how badly Peter had wished it had been his cock Evan were swallowing around, his semen spilling down Evan’s throat. 

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” said Peter, through clenched teeth. “Nathaniel made a proper cocksucker out of you.”

Peter felt a smug satisfaction as Evan paused to glare up at Peter. His eyes burned with indignation at Peter’s taunt, even as his mouth was still beautifully stretched around Peter’s cock, before he returned to his work with renewed determination.

Once Evan had managed to take Peter’s cock into his throat, Peter knotted his fingers in Evan’s hair, pulling tight against his scalp. He guided Evan’s head up and down along his cock. The pace was not especially brutal, but he could tell it was faster than what Evan would have set on his own. Evan adjusted quickly enough, sputtering slightly before relaxing his throat as he took Peter deeper and deeper each time, letting himself be used even as his eyes watered at the intrusion. 

Just as Evan managed to take Peter fully to the root, Peter tightened his grip in Evan’s hair, and pinched Evan’s nose shut. Evan struggled to pull away, but Peter held him in place. Evan’s throat spasmed around him as he choked on Peter’s cock. Peter's head buzzed as the overwhelming power surged through him—every nerve coming alive as he watched Evan fully grasp the utter helplessness of his situation. Peter thrust back and forth in quick, shallow movements, never pulling back far enough to let Evan catch his breath; all the while, tears streamed down Evan’s deep-red face as he stared up at Peter in pleading terror, begging for air. 

Peter continued fucking Evan’s mouth until he felt his climax build and his balls draw tight. He loosened his grip and let Evan pull away. As Evan gasped desperately for air, his face red and wet with tears and saliva, Peter wrapped his hand around his cock and jerked himself to climax, shooting spurts of come across Evan’s face. 

Peter watched as Evan’s desperate, hungry breaths threatened to turn to sobs as the air came rushing back to his lungs. Evan’s whole body shook with each heaving breath as he leaned forward, propping himself up with his arms. When he moved to wipe the mess off his face, Peter stopped him.

“Leave it,” Peter ordered with a smile. “It looks good on you. Now strip.”

Evan’s fingers shook as he unbuttoned his shirt and trousers. He seemed to pull in on himself as he undressed, trying desperately to hide as each layer of cover was stripped away until he was fully exposed. Finally, Evan knelt naked before Peter, pliant and vulnerable, awaiting Peter’s instruction. 

“Let’s move somewhere a little more comfortable. I want to see how you look bent over the sofa.”

Evan moved to stand, but Peter stopped him.

“You stand when I say you can. Until then, you crawl.”

Evan knelt back down. He tensed, his fists clenched, before he slackened and looked up at Peter in shamefaced defeat. Peter beckoned as he walked through the halls, and Evan obediently followed on his hands and knees. 

Peter’s heart filled with smug satisfaction. Evan had spent his entire life resisting the call of their god, over a decade fleeing from his own family, hoping that one day he might finally be free. Now—reduced to crawling naked through the family home, covered in Peter’s come—he could no longer deny who he truly belonged to.

They reached the drawing room.

“I want you to kneel, right there,” Peter said, gesturing to a spot in the middle of the carpet as he sat down on the sofa. He pulled the bottle of lube out of his pocket, and tossed it roughly at Evan, making him flinch away.

“I want you to fuck yourself open for me,” Peter ordered. “And make a good show of it.”

It was a delicious sight, Evan pouring out the lube onto his fingers before reaching behind himself, his legs spread open. His mouth opened in a soft gasp as he breached himself.

“Very good,” said Peter, barely restraining the hunger in his voice. “Keep going.”

Evan stifled a moan as he pushed another finger inside himself.

“It’s okay if it feels good, Evan. Let me see how much you love this. Why don’t you play with your nipples?”

Evan blushed deep red as he moved his free hand up to his nipple, running his fingers in circles and pinching at it, making sweet, sharp noises under his own touch. His breath hitched softly as he thrust his fingers in and out of himself, so beautifully pliant.

Peter’s cock began to stir just at the sight. 

“All those nights you spent crying alone in your room after Nathaniel fucked you. All those years you spent running from our god. Now here you are, fucking yourself open for my cock, all so that you can die without your love ever truly knowing you. If only the family could see you now. 

“Who knows? Maybe they _can_ see you,” mused Peter. “I really couldn’t be bothered to remember if there were any visitors today. Maybe someone is watching right now, invisible. Just like I used to watch you and Nathaniel.”

Evan froze, looking up at Peter in a newfound horror. Peter stepped up from the sofa and crouched behind him, wrapping one hand around Evan’s cock and the other possessively around his throat. The frantic rhythm of Evan’s pulse pounding beneath Peter’s touch, the throb of Evan’s cock in his hand, the heat of Evan’s naked body pressed against his—it was all so inescapably intimate in a way that cut Peter to his very core, and yet every sensation, every touch set his nerves alight. 

“Don’t stop,” Peter whispered into Evan’s ear. Evan began working himself open once more, and Peter slowly began to run his fist up and down Evan’s cock. 

“You never realized, did you? You know, for all your crying after the fact, you were a greedy little slut for him. You resisted at first, put up a good fight, but you were _gagging_ for it in no time at all.”

Peter gripped Evan’s throat even tighter, hungrily mouthing at the base of his neck as he stroked Evan faster and faster. Peter was fully hard again, his cock pressed against Evan’s backside.

“You were so desperate to please him. You would moan like a whore when he entered you. I watched you come around his cock so many times, as he fucked you into the mattress, making you squeal and whine with every thrust. Every time, you begged him not to leave when he was done with you.”

Peter let go of Evan’s cock and withdrew, leaving Evan untouched, rutting into the empty air and gasping in the middle of the floor.

“When you come today, you’re coming on _my_ cock,” said Peter, taking in the sight of Evan kneeling before him, overcome with needy desperation.

Peter climbed back onto the sofa, his heartbeat pounding in his ears as a shameful part deep inside him ached at the loss of Evan’s body against his for even a moment. He looked at Evan and felt a rush of satisfaction at how utterly ruined he looked—his hair disheveled, his mouth slack from arousal and exhaustion, his face ruddy and covered in dried come and fresh tears.

“Come here and slick me up,” he ordered, his voice hungry and rough.

Evan crawled over to kneel between Peter’s legs, his breath still ragged with arousal. He squirted more lube onto his hands and wrapped them around Peter’s cock, stroking up and down the length of it.

“I want you to ride me, Evan,” said Peter, letting his head roll back as he took in the warm, wet glide of Evan’s hands. “Show me just how desperate you are to be stuffed full of my cock.”

Evan climbed up and straddled his lap, tentatively resting his hands on Peter’s shoulders for balance before slowly lowering himself onto Peter’s cock. Evan gasped as Peter breached him; it was a tight fit, in spite of Evan’s preparation. Between the tight heat slowly enveloping Peter inch by inch, and the sweet pained noises Evan made as he struggled to take Peter’s cock—if Peter were a younger man, he might have come right then and there, watching as Evan balled his fists in the fabric of Peter’s shirt and grimaced in concentration as he urged himself to sink lower and lower onto Peter’s cock. 

Evan’s pace was agonizingly slow. There was something intoxicating about watching him force his body to take Peter in, but Peter had no patience left. He thrust his hips up into Evan until he was fully sheathed, making Evan yelp and tense up in pained surprise.

Evan took several sharp, faltering breaths as he pushed through the pain. He began to rock his hips, slowly at first, building up to a steady rhythm. In no time at all, he was properly fucking himself on Peter’s cock. Peter watched as Evan’s mouth hung open, as his breath came in shallow, needy pants even as tears welled in his eyes. 

“You were made for this, Evan. You know that, don’t you? You make such a pretty whore.”

Evan simply continued bouncing on Peter’s cock, even as his face burned a deep, shameful red.

“Do you want to come?” asked Peter. 

Evan hung his head low before answering breathlessly, “Yes. Please, yes.”

“Touch yourself for me.”

Evan reached down to stroke his own cock, already pressed up against his stomach and leaking precome. He stroked himself until he was shouting and clenching around Peter’s cock, spurts of come shooting across his stomach.

Breathless, his whole body flushed red, splattered with both Peter’s and his own come—Evan looked at Peter with bitter resignation. Peter’s pulse raced at the sight, at the knowledge that Evan was fully and undeniably _his_ —before his mind slipped to all the times Nathaniel had been in this exact position, feeling Evan’s body hot and tight coming around him. The thought filled Peter with a hungry rage. He snapped his hips up into Evan at a brutal pace, gripping Evan’s ass and pounding in as hard he could manage.

“You’re mine,” Peter growled into Evan’s neck as he pushed Evan down onto the sofa and climbed on top of him, pinning Evan down beneath his weight. He pushed Evan’s legs up and over his shoulders, nearly bending Evan in half. Peter fucked into Evan as deeply as he could manage, claiming him more fully with every thrust until finally he came, spilling so deep inside Evan that he would never forget who he belonged to ever again. Evan was marked inside as well as out. 

Peter let himself grow soft inside Evan before pulling out, savoring the way Evan continued to clench around his over-sensitive cock. Once he pulled out, he slumped back against the sofa. He let a well-fucked exhaustion wash over him, watching as Evan lay next to him—breathing in deep, heavy pants that threatened to turn to sobs, legs still splayed, Peter’s come leaking out of his red, abused hole. Evan winced as Peter reached over to run his fingers in circles around Evan’s hole, smearing the come around before pushing what remained back inside of him.

They sat in a lingering stillness for what felt like an eternity before Peter finally decided to hold up his own side of the bargain.

“Now, about your widow,” said Peter, as he stood up and tucked himself back into his trousers. “You know I can’t stop our family from taking her, marked as deeply as she is.”

The color drained from Evan’s face. 

“I doubt I could even stop myself,” Peter continued, relishing the helpless panic that washed over Evan’s face with every word. “You know how well I deal with temptation. If something sweet comes my way, begging to be taken, I just can’t help myself.”

“No, you–you have to,” Evan stammered. “You can’t just—”

“I absolutely _could_ ‘just’. You knew going into this that you were putting your faith in the strength of my word.” 

“I did everything you asked,” said Evan, his tone muted and defeated.

“I’m not going to help her, but _you_ are. Before you die, you are going to feed yourself to our god.”

“No, no. Please, Peter—”

“You can do more for your widow in the Lonely than you can if you are dead. When the time comes, you let Forsaken take you and give your companion a chance at escape. Or you can abandon your hunger strike and feed, carrying on your charade. Or you can leave the girl and serve Forsaken with us. It really doesn’t matter to me. Whatever you choose, there is no escape. You belong to us.”

Peter felt his god's presence course through him as he watched Evan curl in on himself, the last remnants of the illusion of freedom fading away. Evan belonged to Forsaken. To Peter. There was no escaping that fact ever again.

“Welcome back, Evan,” Peter smiled, running his fingers through Evan’s hair. He knew what Evan would choose, and he looked forward to visiting him once the Lonely finally claimed him.


End file.
